Anathema Adopted from TheLastWatanagashi
by LoliPear the WaltzQueen
Summary: Sadoka has trouble making friends. She has an unintentionally scary disposition, from her looks to her negative personality. She trys to make the best of it, but things rarely go according to plan
1. Sadoko:Scare extrodinare

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club.

Also... this isn't a dream sequence. Or a flashback.

_A beautiful young girl sat huddled on her living room sofa, clothed in only a wispy negligee. She shivered and pulled her legs to her chest, wrapping a blue blanket tightly around her small form. Her expression was one of utter fear, as though she would begin to cry at any second._

_She reached forlornly towards a tableside lamp, tugging gently on the pulley-switch. Although it emitted a soft click, the room remained as dark as a sealed coffin. _

_Suddenly, she heard something strange--was it a sigh? She rose nervously to her feet, her breathing becoming more audible. _

BANG! BANG!

_Someone was pounding on the front door! The girl trembled slightly and skittered towards the sound, peering through the tiny magnified lens installed on the door. A blood-shot eye stared back._

_The girl screamed and fell backwards. An enraged cry resounded from the other side and the noise of fists falling against wood resumed, more powerful than before._

_Gasping, the young girl scrambled away. She hurriedly pushed the couch to block the entrance to the house, and then ran into the hallway. As she glanced back, she saw the wood of the door splinter, and a bloodied hand shot through the opening and grasped for the handle…_

"_Leave me _alone!_" She shrieked, tearing her gaze away._

_All the young woman could do was run. She turned a corner and pulled open a door; the bathroom, the only room in the house with a lock. Once inside, she pushes the small button on the door's handle. As she stepped backwards into the wall, her chest heaved. The girl rid herself of the blanket and sat parallel from the door. _

_She was focusing so hard on calming down that she almost didn't notice the sudden impact of wetness on her face. Thinking that she was crying, she lifted her hand to touch the spot. Her finger came away red. Another crimson splotch dripped onto her palm._

_Not daring to breathe and hoping that it was an illusion, the girl slowly lifted her eyes to the ceiling._

_The grate covering an air-conditioning duct was gone. In it's place a monstrous figure hung, it's outstretched arm only inches above the girl's head. It's long hair, thick and tangled, shook as it squirmed from the duct and into the room. Despite it's human appearance, it moved with in such a convulsing manner it appeared more like a snake than a woman._

"_Nooooo!" The girl yelled, trying to bolt for the door. The long-fingered hand shot out and twisted into her hair, pulling her away from any chances of escaping. It yanked her unto her feet, until their faces were only inches apart._

_The figure's face spilt into an upside-down grin, dementedly gleeful. Blood ran in rivulets from the corner's of it's mouth and formed puddles on the floor._

"_I _fooound _you." It sang happily._

"CUT!" Screamed the director. A few of the idle cast member clapped lazily. It wasn't that they were impressed with the performance, but that they were glad that the shooting was done for the day. The maintenance crew leaned against a wall looking peeved, and a janitor had already shown up to clean up the foam coffee cups and crappy magazines strewn all over the set.

I guessed that filming had run overtime again. The director, Saruwatari, was never happy about anything, so it wasn't unusual for us to do the same take over and over. He was always eager to get every detail perfect, but considering how close the deadline is looming, his behavior ends up being more of a hindrance than a help.

But when he gets impatient, the pressure always came down hard on the actors. After all, the success of the film stood on our error-prone shoulders.

Saruwatari stood and waved for everyone's attention.

"Take a break while we edit this scene. If everything checks out, we'll call it a wrap for the day. Be back in half an hour in case we need to re-film this segment." Then he, along with the camera men and the main editor, stepped outside to take a smoke.

Sumire Kandou, my co-star, stood up and glanced disdainfully at me. She turned on her heels and strode off the set, towards the shared dressing room, leaving me alone. I watched her go, eyeing her pretty outfit and confident walk with envy.

The straps attached to my ankles were beginning to chafe harshly. Fake blood, spattered on the floor and in my mouth, tasted like plastic. It's foul chemical scent it was starting to make my vision swim. Or was it the blood rushing to my head?

As I lost feeling in my legs, I tried shifting around to see if it was possible to wiggle out of the faux-ceiling I was lodged in. Every movement I made only served to swing me in a circle, and I started to feel nauseas on top of everything else.

As I became more and more uncomfortable, I called for the assistant director, Takeda.

"Yeah, Sadoka?" She yelled, not bothering to look in my direction as she walked away.

"You're just going to _leave_ me here?" I asked, upset but not particularly surprised.

The fluorescent lighting died down that illuminated Takeda shut down. Her high heels clicked against the cement floor in the distance. I used that sound to pinpoint her location because I couldn't really see her anymore. Finally, her reply floated out of the darkness.

"Well, if the director wants to do another take, I don't want to have to waste time putting you back up there." Came the selfish answer.

She exited the building, leaving me in a very empty studio.

After ten minutes of hanging there quietly like a good girl, I had had enough of this treatment. It was always the same with these people! Everyone in the film industry was so wrapped up in their own meaningless money-grubbing lives that they couldn't even spare a second to assist someone that desperately needed it!

"Argghh!" I yelled, hoping to vent out my frustration. A startled janitor, innocently sweeping up cigarette stubs and gum wrappers, screamed like a little girl and fled the premises. Maybe he had thought I was a prop or something.

As I swung there silently, I pooled my energy into making a mental list of everything I hated. Number one on the list was immediately obvious.

Namely, my role as one of the most infamous antagonists in the entire history of horror films.


	2. Studio Blues

I furiously scrubbed at my skin, wash cloth in one hand and soap in the other.  
The colors from the plentiful make-up I wore washed down the sink's drain,  
mixing together as it flowed away, creating an unpleasant shade of grey.

Pausing a moment to shake the hair out of my eyes, I caught my reflection in  
the bathroom mirror and winced. The white-tinted water dripping down my skin  
made me look as if my face were melting. The red and black splotches around my  
mouth and eyes weren't pleasing to the eye either; if anyone saw me like  
this, they'd assume I was both an insomniac and that I practiced cabalism.

"You look like a heroin addict," said someone behind me, in a  
matter-of-fact tone of voice. Not bothering to turn around, I tossed the soap  
in the person's general direction and heard it made a satisfying thud as it  
hit it's target.

"Get out of my bathroom, Hitoru. Actually, just get out of my house."

"Scary, violent, and hostile. Can the list get any longer?" he smirked,  
patting me on the back as if he pitied me.

In response, I scowled at him fiercely. Mustering the power of every menacing  
horror-movie trick in existence, I turned it into the most powerful  
death-glare known to man. The killing intent in the air was practically  
visible.

He managed to keep sneering, but his face became noticeably paler. Hitoru  
backed away and left the room, fumbling with the doorknob.

"And ugly! I forgot 'ugly'!" He shouted, once he was at a safe  
distance.

Sighing, I resumed my task of removing the stains from my face.

Hitoru was my cousin on my mother's side. He was a talented actor, but not  
so much that he'd ever landed a lead role in a movie or television shows. At  
present, he played best friend of the male protagonist of a semi-popular  
comedy series. Not only was he a comic-relief character, he also had an  
unrequited love with the show's female lead, both on and off-screen. He  
never complained, but I was sure it was tortuous to be cast in a one-sided  
relationship on stage, only for history to repeat itself in reality as well.  
It was a bad fate for him or any actor, although not quite so terrible as  
mine.

I suspected that he was considered a disappointment to his parents.  
Unfortunately, I am quite familiar with that concept.

Nearly every member of my family had some role in the acting world. Those few  
who had taken normal jobs were considered incomprehensible freaks and were  
collectively disowned, with no chance of inheritance. I just barely avoided  
this category.

My own parents were considered the 'cream of the crop'. The media haled  
them as The Most Romantic Acting Duo of the Year many times over. Even though  
they were aging, this preferential treatment had no end in sight. They made  
enormous amounts of money, and between them, participated in six or more  
filmings a year.

With such successful parents, my birth had gathered a lot of attention from my  
acting family. Everyone decided that because I had come from the best of the  
best, I would obviously become the greatest actress of your generation.

Funny how things turn out.

I toweled myself dry, finally looking like a normal human again. Or at least  
as close as I usually did.

In the living room, Hitoru was sprawled out on the sofa. He pointedly ignored  
my existence as I sat on the opposite end of the couch.

On the plasma screen television, the 'humorous' antics of a group of high  
school students played. One of the highly dramatized uniform-wearing  
adolescents was my cousin.

"You're watching your own show? Who does that?" I asked skeptically.

The news came on as he replied, "Those that don't scare everyone when they walk into a room have the luxury of looking at their beautiful faces any time they wish."He smirked smugly as he turned his attention to the news. I began to wonder why I bother to put up with him when he opened his mouth again, and of course, as promised, nothing but slimy dribble would come out his mouth, bearing something that would be the last bit of pressure that I could take.

"Sumire Kandou, just got into an accident."What?! my eyes snapped to attentoion. I didn' like her very well, but-"She's okay but her face is wrecked." My head tipped to the side and my arms crossed themselves in front of my chest. Huh? What do you know, something that made me feel better actually came from him. A vicious smile took root on my face. Saruwatari only hired the prettiest girls and with her faced wrecked the little snot wouldn't be getting to work with and antagonize me anymore. The vicious smile turned into a full out blood thirsty grin. Just like a kid that had heard school was closed I was ready to prance around joyously. And just like a child that thinks they would never have school again, I was about to be crushed.

"You do realize that scince Kandou is gone, you'll probably end up working with Kiyomi Hanjando."

My face fell ad my skin lost ay color it had to begin with as what he said sank in. Kiyomi Handanjo was beautiful in every way possible. Her eyes were wide and blue, her skin was glowing and smooth beyond perfection, she was sinously shaped and petite, and her hair had a natural curl to it that almost everyone in Japan would kill for. Everyone loved her and claimed her beauty made everyone around her look dim and slavish in comparison, the effect would only be doubled when standing next to my long stick straight black hair, skin paler than a fish belly with the word pasty written all over me and a washboard figure to match. She looked like an angel, but the sniggering and back alley hearsay of the studios had let everyone know how much of an evil, rude, and flat out cruel demon she was. Going to the studio day after day and seeing Kiyomi there would be a nightmare, and everyone this side of Kyoto knew it.

"I'm not going to work with Kiyomi." Hitoru looked up at me quizzically with an undertone of you-don't-have –the-guts. At this look I hardened my resolve. I didn't like my life as it was right now and I wasn't about to let anything make it worse. "If I have to work with Kiyomi I'll go crazy."

"I'm going crazy," I moaned into my hands in an unintentionally eerie voice, causing everyone to turn and look at me with a disturbed expression on their faces. The lights and the make artist's table only helped make the skin make up look even paler and the expression on my face had it been visible would have made everyone either take pity on the unhappy little Onryou or caused them to flee in terror. The fleeing in terror was more likely considering my track record with these things.

I clung to the last bit of sanity I could as I took a small bit of happiness in the fact that it was almost over. My first film with Kiyomi Hanjando was almost over. I steeled myself with a determination found only in samurai, soliders, and women in unhappy frames of mind. _I can do this! A year of working with this woman down to the day, and if I can't tough it out through this last day what am I then?_ I raised my face from my hands and glared determinedly into the mirror, at the ghost it reflected. I am not a quitter, and I am not a loser! I'm as good as everyone else and I can do this! With this little speech out of the way I hopped down from the make-up artist's chair and positively stomped with a fury as my face twitched up into a disgustingly gruesome swirl of livid features. The minor stage hands scattered like cockroaches under my line of sight and I stopped a moment and sighed. I really hadn't meant to scare them. A fog of depression loomed over me as I finally reached the set. I glanced over at Kiyomi's face. It was going to be a long day.


	3. Liar, liar, coffee like fire

The world was spinning. The air was becoming stuffy and stale. Every hair on my head had become stiff. It was although every ghost I had ever played on screen was furious with me for doing a bad job and decided to haunt me all at once. Such terror could only come from one thing. My mother was on the phone. I had wanted to leave a message on her answering machine so I wouldn't have to hear her or interact with her in any way. Her very voice made my ears _bleed_. Apparently her new hobby was to stand right next to the phone and let people call her and ignore them on purpose. I could practically feel the pain of a delicately thin and trendy phone being clutched in the grip of the angry harpy as she snatched it up in a whirl. "You're doing what_?" Why, Hello ,there, blood dripping out of ears, long time no see, How have you been?_

"I'm going to school. I have to get an education. Home school people are boring. I want friends."I said into the phone. Mother howled back with a fury known only to executioners and feral dogs. Her clipped tone made even the most stubborn people lie down on their belly like a dog and beg for scraps, being raised by it gave me immunity to her Harbinger Of Doom voice.

"I have to learn how to work with others without scaring them half to death! ...I'm not using a tone with you…My voice does this all by itself now. This is what I'm talking about!" Even then my voice broke out of its human range and took a nose dive straight into Horror-Film Land, complete with airy undertones and breathy sighs, the likes of which only the most powerful ghosts possessed. Well, ghosts and me.

Listening to her, even over the phone, was like a student assembly, where every student from the entire school was stuffed into one stuffy room and forced to look at horrifying images provided courtesy of PETA and a painfully boring opera was played almost acappela with the only music being rusty nails scratching the life out of a black board. As her voice screeched across the black board of my brain, in the Inner School Assembly of my mind, and my ears bled I took the route chosen by little girls and boys for centuries. I, simply, lied.

"Fine, you're right. I'll forget the whole thing." I listened with increasing smugness as she talked about how right she was and she was going to take a bath and _blah, blah, blah_. I quickly hung up the phone to avoid another half an hour of her blathering about herself. Scheming, I hastily flicked on my laptop and began to type, half muttering to myself.

"Dear Ouran High School, thank you for accepting me and I will be arriving shortly."

Clicking that 'send' button made me feel great, like I was taking control of my life instead of letting it spiral downwards. It felt like nothing could go wrong, like everything was going my way. Or, so I thought….

In the dead of night a small café was open in the basement of a non descript building somewhere in the Osaka district. A dark haired girl sat with her head down, completely absorbed in the menu, which had coincidentally little to offer in the way of edibles. A man with a hat on shuffled out of the hallway, still shaking rain off from the shower going on above. His duffel bag, however, was mostly dry. The late workers of the building curiously gave the pair a looks of askance as the man sidled up to the young woman's table the, forgoing their wondering, went back to their food and thinking about their work.

All was quiet for a moment as she handed over the menu she had spent the entire time wrapping her mind around to her middle aged companion. A waitress finally noticed the pair and came over to take their orders-"Coffee, cream, two sugars, make that a double."

"So I got the dresses like you asked Sa-San." The girl looked up, grey eyes gleaming. "It's a shame that I won't be seeing you for a while though. Oh, well, maybe I can finally get some rest at night without you popping up in my dreams."

"Must have been some nightmare" Sadoka, finally looked up with a wry smile on her face. The waitress arrived and set both of the coffees down in front of the man. He pushed on over towards Sadoka and she finally registered the girl sitting right there. The waitress flushed embarrassedly before scurrying off. Sadoka softly sighed before getting down to business." I'm going to have to push most of these preparations off on you, Hiwatana-San, sorry but you _are_ the most trust worthy person in this business."

"Nah, most of the other drivers, half the time it's hard to tell if they're drivers or paparazzi. But, seriously though, why now?"

"I just, got tired of them you know? All the attitudes and egos and selfishness. I talked to Saruwatari-San about this ahead of time, so there's always going to be a spot open for me when I come back, but… I'm not sure if I'll ever come back sometimes and other times…"

"I know what you're talking about. Things happen, life changes, people get cast as rapists" His hand lifted the small cup of mediocre coffee and a small clink was not heard by the other few patrons as the girl grabbed the dark blue duffel bag full of school uniforms stood and lifted her cup of lukewarm joe before dumping it into a nearby plant which immediately took on a sickly brown color. The actress and the driver both blanched at this. "Could you, uh…"

A snippy "Whatever..." was heard. She grabbed his coffee as well and pitched it into the plant. Standing she dropped some yen on the table, payment for her half of the poison like coffee, and strode out the door. He did the same. Soon a voice rang out, "Oh no! Not the Peruvian Orchid!"

Sadoka sat in her room, staring into the mirror utterly repulsed by what she saw. It was more than the usual culprits, fishy pale skin, lank hair, ghostly eyes. She was now disgusted by having to look at a scared, ugly, sleepy and petulant girl in the mirror. It was not helping that this already heinous inventory was further supplemented by a bright yellow puffy sleeved dress with a garish red bow on top of her head.

Always a girl of action she promptly ripped the bow off of her head and stomp-stomp-stomped on it. Perhaps she should have taken a look at the uniforms beforehand. She relented slightly in her rage; at least they didn't have a gigantic bow big enough to dwarf Pluto. Her plain black cell phone rang, playing the song from The Ring in eight bit. She quickly grabbed it and with a harsh "Yeah I'm coming already, jeez" she picked up her books and walked to the door. She locked up, punched in the security code, all the while, checking for strange men in the bushes with cameras, using her hair to obscure her fingers as the moved and punched buttons on the pad before pulling down the key pad cover and locking that. She turned around, keeping her head down, as usual her hair moved in slow motion and independent of gravity, the ends flicking up and hovering slightly as she skittered down the many, many steps between the front door and the limo waiting to drop her off at her first day in a new school.


	4. a Cloudy Start

Sadoka was not shy, not by any means of the imagination. Even some of the loud and rather brusque American actors she had worked with had occasionally been startled by her forward behavior. Social mis-grace, number twelve on a long list of failures, had wormed it's way into my heart and mind, heck, it had infused it's self in her DNA before she was seemingly, even born. So with the best of thoughts she planned out her day with the efficiency of an engineer or an architect, every minute was to be accounted for.

The limo tailed smoothly over the roads as Sadoka raised her pen from its continuous scrawl and capped it. She took a look at all her hard work proud, and then her pride changed to puzzlement. What was she doing? She had more time now, she wasn't going to need this. She seemed to finally gain a pulse as her relaxing arms grabbed the notebook and struggling-ly ripped it directly down the middle and threw the pieces above her head in a glorious wave of striped yellow legal paper. Her half lidded eyes raised themselves to the ceiling as though looking through to roof to the glorious sky above, a sky where she could do anything and nature would poor it's good blessings down on her. A sky perfect for starting over, a perfect sky. The faded ghost of a smile crept up on her face.

Of course she knew things would not be that easy, _after all where did she think she was headed to, America?_ An eerily childlike laugh rose up out of the gorge of her throat. Of course she would have a chance to have fun, but, she steeled herself, paying no mind to the fists planted on her hips creasing and wrinkling the yellow horror, there was work to be done. Her eyes slipped closed for a moment before raising themselves back up to the ceiling where to future had stood before, in a momentary sky. Looking for sun she found clouds. Oh _well. At least this version of events to come would be more accurate_, she thought. She had no idea how right she was.

Ouran High School was famous for teaching the real up and comers. Company Presidents, Principals of the more prestigious schools, famous sportsmen and only the brightest of the bright got into _this_ school. It certainly showed, even from a distance the gates were large and imposing, each shining metal swirl, seemed to ward off those not worthy with a glare. _Go we don't want you here_ they seemed to say. Sadoka had trouble reminding herself that these gates were open to her as the limo neared them. _Go we, don't want _you_ here._ Sadoka looked forward; _yes you do _she thought firmly. The limo finally came within a stone's throw of the gate before it seemed to eye her with satisfaction through the car window and opening wide, like a haughty served announcing that _you may proceed_.

Now past the gates, the ghost like girl in the back seat let her shoulders slump slightly and sighed like a cursed howling wind. She didn't know how she managed to get her life in this sort of shape, but she was going to straighten it all out and come out on top. No one could stop Ookawa Sadoka . In the middle of her ill fated pep talk she had not noticed the elongated car stop. The door opened on her revealing a slight, washed out girl covered in a yellow tent, sitting in a seat heavily decorated in meticulously written shreds. She looked out at all the curious students who would soon find her awkward and strange and undesirable for company.

Just moments ago, nothing in the word could stop Ookawa Sadoka. Now she remembered how she had gotten to this point in her life. Scrounging up her last shreds of dignity, she stepped out of the limousine into the too sunny day, dripping paper and seemed to shrink back on herself, just like the scrap of unhappy shadow she was. She was only up to the second step when she stumbled and dropped her bag, spilling documents and a fair amount of sour candy onto the ground. The wind whistled out of her throat as she groaned like a thing possessed and quickly plucked her things off of the ground amidst stares and traversed up the steps. She held little hope for friends among these people. It was going to be a long school year.


	5. Best Worst day ever

Computer troubles guys, still don't own

Nothing had really changed. The sun was shining. The earth was moving on its axis. Music students were still playing their violins. Deranged men in bunny masks hadn't infiltrated the school. No geneticist was holding the world at ransom. And, of course, no students had forsaken their fortune for the life of an artist. Still, something big had happened.

A student sat in a desk in during lunch. A flat chested girl in the boy's uniform, a model cross dresser if there ever was one, sat slumped slightly in repose. Her mind was caught up in the world of science and misery that was Frankenstein. A pair of petite, blue clad shoulders twisted just so as she stretched her neck a bit. The shift brought a gaggle of girls into view. The women crowded around a pair of light haired twins like a pack of chicks to their mother. The minor din of chattering was easily ignorable for Haruhi. The Twins, Hikaru and Kaoru had latched on to the topic as soon as it started.

"Oh, Haruhi-san!" Rich chocolate hair was shifted as her head raised itself from its cozy book. The sea of students had parted slightly to reveal a living mirror peering at her with all four golden, questioning eyes. "What do you think?

She knew what they were talking about, every one did. Despite the intended quietness behind the event a new student had found their way into the schools roster. The horror actress Sadoka had come to school early on her first day, covered in paper shreds and dropped a rather large bag supposedly full to the brim with candy. If Haruhi knew anything about this school by the end of the day she would have also spit on a student, cursed at a teacher and insulted every students hair style by the end of the day according to the gossipers.

Haruhi had found her self wishing that they could just drop it. She disliked gossiping in general, she more so disliked where the inclusion of herself in this conversation was headed. Still, Haruhi had to play along.

"I think that she just had a bad morning," she said considerate of the girl's feelings. "I think she just needs someone to help her get adjusted. After all, if she had been home-schooled her entire life, then she'll be very confused. Don't you think?"

Roughly half of the girls internally squealed about Haruhi being such a nice guy and commenced dreaming of a life with 'him.' The Hitachiin, however, had something different in mind. A quick, mischievous look was passed between them as they both broke out their cell phones and texted like champions. Kaoru muttered words like 'candy' and 'shouta' while Hikaru mouthed 'clumsy' and a rather unintelligible mumble. In less than a minute both phones snapped shut and Hikaru asked Kaoru if he thought Ookawa-san would like the Host Club. Kaoru insisted she would. All eyes turned to Haruhi, unspoken question written across all of their faces. Afraid of social pressure Haruhi quickly caved, "I'm sure she'll enjoy herself." The twin grins grew.

Meanwhile, an unhappy actress plucked piece after piece of candy from her school bag. She had brought no formal lunch to speak of and knew no one with whom she could share. The idea of getting to know anyone here that well seemed to be shriveling faster than a marshmallow lollipop in boiling soda with the whole situation. She was given a rather large berth by the other students. At first it had seemed like it was just them being respectful and not wanting to crowd her. It soon became apparent that these high class students didn't seem to like her. The only other logical conclusion was that they didn't like actors and that was frankly ridiculous. As her supply of Nobel Super Lemon dwindled so did her patience. She had put on her best face for the day, bright (with embarrassment) and sunny (as a thunderstorm), yet things had gone on worse than usual.

There had been her introduction to the class where she had accidentally let her voice go spooky, as well as the disastrous first day of gym class when she had to convince the life guard that she was very good at swimming and had not just been drowning, she always looked that pale. Now lunch was going down hill faster than a log down the loo in spite of the hope that someone would finally show some friendliness. Sadoka was frankly annoyed when she saw half of her candy was gone and no one had come within a foot of her. Sadoka wasn't going to wait around any longer, this needed to end and if they wouldn't talk to her she would.

Her eyes swiveled around in their sockets as she took a look at the people around her. A few curious eyes stared back before looking away with unease. Not them, she decided. Soon most of the students had been put firmly in the category of 'Not them' and two options remained. the only other student both had a barrier of space between themselves and the collective class. It was either a bored looking student reading a newspaper while eating his plain looking bento or the bored looking red-headed kid with half a donuts and an apple, filing his nails.

Sadoka took a better look at the kid with the paper and became slightly surprised he hadn't tried to talk to her. Hair combed perfectly, faint laugh lines, Tokyo times in his hand and plain white rice in his bento. This too perfect student had all the signs of the press written on him. She looked at him blankly for a moment more before quickly filing him in the press section of her mind with a big red X next to his name. Her eyes slid over to the other kid. This one looked more laid back. A donuts with an apple said that he could deal with contradictions and might even embrace them. A small eerie smile formed on her face. He would talk to her, or be horribly spooked trying.


End file.
